


Morbid Painting On Display

by Mrs_SimonTam_PHD



Series: SPN Kink Bingo 2019 [56]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blood, Dom!Ketch, Established Relationship, Gun play, M/M, Serial Killer!Dean, Serial Killer!Ketch, Sub!Dean, Top!Ketch, bottom!Dean, serial killer au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-08
Updated: 2019-04-08
Packaged: 2020-01-06 17:32:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18393086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mrs_SimonTam_PHD/pseuds/Mrs_SimonTam_PHD
Summary: Dean and Ketch ride the adrenaline rush of murder





	Morbid Painting On Display

**Author's Note:**

> Crossposted on tumblr
> 
> Written for the Dean/Ketch square on my SPN Kink Bingo Card

Dean’s back hit the cringy motel wall, and he thought he could hear roaches skittering inside the walls, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. Not with Ketch’s mouth on his, hungrily pressing into him. Blood covered hands ran through sandy blond hair and Dean whimpered in need, clinging to his lover. 

The murder was done, with little to no forensic evidence. Perhaps one day, technology will be advanced enough to detect that Dean Winchester and Arthur Ketch had committed this heinous murder, but for now they were safe. They were careful, as usual.

Ketch was still wearing his gear, and Dean could feel guns and cock pressing against his own as their teeth battled for dominance, with Ketch winning like they knew he would. Dean would always surrender to Ketch. On the battlefield of murder, and in their bedroom. 

“You performed very well, Dean,” Ketch murmured in a low voice. “Thought you were going to fall straight to your knees when I made the final slash.” 

“Considered it,” Dean breathed, “but I also knew that we had to get the fuck out of there. Remind me why we didn’t gag her?” 

“It was a screaming sort of night,” Ketch murmured, his accent coming even stronger as his voice got lower, deeper. Adrenaline and the thrill of the kill swam through his veins, and that combined with Dean’s  _ very  _ obvious arousal and his own adrenaline rush made him extremely horny. 

He reached into his thigh holster and withdrew his favorite gun, a Sig Sauer P320 Compact 9 millimeter handgun. Clicking the safety off, Ketch slipped it under Dean’s chin, watching bright green eyes go black in arousal. A soft keen slipped between full lips, and Ketch smirked. 

“To whom do you belong, boy?” Ketch breathed.

“You, Sir,” Dean whispered, his eyes relaxing. “And only you.” 

“Good,” Ketch praised. “And if you betray me?” 

“The torture and murder you would perform would be your crowning jewel,” Dean moaned. “Sir, please.”

“That’s right,” Ketch smirked. He clicked the safety back on and slipped his gun away to admire the way the blood from their latest kill splashed across Dean’s cheeks like haphazard blush, green eyes blown open in arousal, blood staining his hair. Dean looked good in all black, in an outfit similar to Ketch’s, and that, too, was covered in barely seen blood. 

Ketch couldn’t wait to cover the young, supple body beneath the black nylon covered in blood. 

“Strip for me,” Ketch commanded. “Bend over the bed, Dean.” 

“Yes Sir,” Dean moaned. 

Ketch grinned darkly. “I hope that our little escapade didn’t tire you out too much, my little poppet,” he said, watching as Dean shivered. “Because you’re going to be up all night, used for my pleasure.” 

Dean whimpered as the tactical gear fell to the floor in the haste of getting naked. 

“Oh, you’ll get some too, Dean,” Ketch purred, watching as tanned, freckled skin came into view. His cock throbbed. Dean looked amazing. “Believe me, watching you torture our prize of the night gives you some special privileges. But still within our rules. Remember: I am always in charge. Right?” 

“Yes, Sir,” Dean whined, fumbling with his belt. 

Ketch smirked and moved away from Dean, so as not to crowd him. He walked over to the dingy kitchenette and withdrew the bottle of whiskey and poured himself a glass. 

Moving from his old hunting grounds in the UK and to America, and meeting Dean Winchester, was probably the best thing that Arthur Ketch has ever done. He is glad that he and Dean were dumping bodies in the same ravine that night. His cock leaked as he remember watching Dean pull the welder’s mask that he wore to hide his identity off for the first time to reveal his Ken doll-esque features. 

He fucked him that night, with Dean riding him, both of them high on the thought of the other being a serial killer. Dean was just starting out, that kill with the shared body dump site officially making him a serial killer according to the FBI, but he showed a lot of potential in the craft that Ketch had been perfecting since he was a sixteen year old lad. 

That was three years ago, and they’ve been hunting, torturing, and killing together ever since. As well as fucking. 

Ketch is grateful for Dean. He has the man’s unwavering loyalty and his wonderful hole to use whenever he deems it necessary. Dean can revoke his consent- Arthur Ketch may be many things, but a rapist he is not- but he very rarely does. 

He turned, whiskey in hand, to see Dean bent over the bed, his ass high in the air and his legs spread. Ketch admired the constellations designed by freckles along Dean’s skin and smirked. 

“Such a good little poppet,” he crooned as he walked over to the eagerly awaiting submissive. He took a sip of his whiskey before setting it between Dean’s shoulder blades, making him shiver. 

“Don’t you dare spill that.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr: @lucibae-is-dancing-in-hell
> 
> Twitter: @Alendra_Dragon
> 
> Comments and Kudos are Shiny!!


End file.
